Papillon

Don't Cry, Mari by Julienne

in which Marinette was fifteen years old,
and her love Adrien
was unfortunately twenty-two

• • •

"Why thank you, Adrien, darling," a stout, but petite figure cooed as a tall blond boy — nearly a man— laid down a sack of flour a few feet from her.

He wiped his brow and replied with a smile, "It's nothing, Mrs. Dupain. Glad I could help."

The boy Adrien was breathtaking, indeed. Sunshine hair, green eyes, and handsomely charming features. He was a familiar face over at the Dupains' bakery, as he started out about five years ago to help the shop out to earn extra money for his family. He was the son of a humble tailor just quite across the bakery, and though he ought to learn his father's work, he still insisted to help out in the bakery, instead.

His presence brightened teenage Marinette, who had been closely eyeing the lad since he entered the bakery, and still ever since he stepped into her life. She distinctly remembered herself peeping out of their shop window the moment she noticed the new neighbors coming in, and as soon as she got a glimpse of him, her eyes never seemed to wander anywhere else. 

She was ten, then, and she had no idea how to make contact with him, obviously as he seemed more mature, and she was just a little girl. However, it seemed as if Adrien found his way to her, and not the other way around. He was the only child of the tailor, so he treated every little one as a sibling of his own— but Marinette was special.

There was something about Marinette that reminded Adrien of her mother, who had mysteriously disappeared during a snow season in his former home. The warmth in her smile, and the glint in her eyes, he found it all too familiar in Marinette's. They were an unlikely pair, for no one expected that they would be the best of friends.

"I see you, Mari," Adrien looked up at the gap of the staircase where Marinette was peeping out, winking at her then flashing a disarming smile.

The girl blushed, hearing the sound of her nickname escape from his lips. Very little knew of her endearing short. Adrien used it as often as he could— he found the nickname rather cute.

Mrs. Dupain took notice of her daughter and said, "Good morning, Mari." Then, she turned to Adrien and thanked him once more, "I still cannot thank you enough for helping us out, Adrien, even though we could hardly repay you, since the bakery has been slow."

"Please don't worry about it," he reassured her. Catching Marinette's eye as she stepped down from the stairs, he continued, "Actually, I came here to say goodbye."

The girl paused, and her heart suddenly drummed against her ear. Did she hear that right? He was going to say goodbye?

"Goodbye?" She asked him, her eyebrows furrowed. "Where are you off to? When will you be back?"

Adrien's heart fell as he opened his mouth to explain to young Marinette. There was so much in the world that her naïve soul could still not comprehend. How was he to break it to her easily— that in a week, her every day with him was about to change?

He took her hand, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. Even her hands were so little, soft and nimble, just as she was. It broke his heart to say what he had to.